


I'll Make This Feel Like Home

by ElisabethMonroe



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: After Hour Drinks, Alternate Universe, Fluff, Inappropriate Shennanigans in a Kindergarten Teacher's Chair, M/M, Multi, No Angst, No Smut, Teacher AU, everyone's a teacher, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisabethMonroe/pseuds/ElisabethMonroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which:<br/>Some of the Amis enjoy After Hour Drinks</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Make This Feel Like Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAdventureofTheVoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAdventureofTheVoid/gifts).



> Unbeta-d as usual, if you see mistakes, please tell me. I wrote this the day it was due (Shhhhh I had college)  
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://abarbaricyalp.tumblr.com/)  
> Title From "Home" by One Direction

“Are you sure no one’s going to walk in? No parent teacher conferences, no meetings with admin?” Combeferre asked with a small groan as he tightened his fingers in Courfeyrac’s hair.

“I promise that no one’s going to walk through that door,” Courfeyrac sighed, pulling away from sucking a bruise against Combeferre’s jaw with a pout. “It’s so late after our last bell that your school is free. Everyone here has gone home.”

“Shouldn’t we lock the door anyway?” Combeferre suggested, though he looked in no way ready to leave Courfeyrac’s teacher chair. Why did Kindergarten teachers get cool, comfortable chairs? Though, to be fair, the high school biology (and chemistry and physics and anatomy and—when they offered humanities—philosophy) teacher spent more time perched on the edge of a desk or walking around or in the lab than in his actual chair.

“No, it’s fine,” Courfeyrac promised as he sealed their lips together again. Combeferre didn’t have it in him to argue and kissed back. It was Friday and it was after school and he was exhausted. Who thought there was so much to do the weeks leading up to finals. If any of his kids complained about what they had to do…

Suddenly the door was open, not that either teacher noticed, and three more bodies were stumbling through and collapsing on the bean bag chairs by the little reading nook that Courfeyrac had set up for his kids. The poof of air finally drew their attention and Combeferre was pretty sure he felt his heart skip a beat until he realized who it was.

Bossuet was being smothered by his better thirds and all looked as tired as Combeferre felt. Musichetta still had water color paints staining her beautifully dark skin and Joly had an array of Band-Aids with various characters on them, ranging from Snoopy to Darth Vader to Spongebob to Harry Potter. Bossuet appeared to have a singed eyebrow. Which was odd because he was in administration, not in a lab. They were all thoroughly tangled together, as they usually were, and it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended, as usual.

“Courfeyrac, your room smells just like a Kinder room outghta,” Joly mumbled against Bossuet’s stomach.

“Yeah, like Germex and Froot-Loops and Crayons,” Musichetta agreed above Bossuet’s head, her arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders.

“And…and…and…” Bossuet started from her neck, but never reached the end of it as he sighed and relaxed, one arm around her waist and the other around Joly’s shoulders.

Courfeyrac slowly slid out of Combeferre’s lap and walked to his friends, who were all apparently asleep. He looked at Combeferre and made a face before grabbing one of the blankets he kept around—and not one of the stupid thin blankets that classrooms usually had, a full on comforter, only the best for his kids—and laid it over them.

“That was weird,” he commented slowly before moving back to Combeferre and electing to sit on his lap. He tugged the chair closer to the desk and started sorting through the worksheets his kids had turned in from the past week but leaned back into Combeferre when he felt the other’s strong arms around his waist. He tilted his head to the side as Combeferre kissed down his neck with feather light kisses and sighed happily.

They jumped apart as the door suddenly banged open again and Feuilly and Bahorel came charging in, shoving each other and crossing to the little mini fridge Courfeyrac kept under the desk. Bahorel grabbed two juice boxes and threw one at Feuilly before jumping up on one of the craft tables—taller than the Littles desks—and continued their conversation.

“No, Feu, I’m telling you, cut the home ec shit out and come back to PE.  I’ve got a girl who’s gonna revolutionize everything we know about what chicks are capable of.”

“Revolutionize what misogynistic PE teachers think chicks are capable of, maybe,” Feuilly laughed, sitting across from him and tucking his legs under him criss-cross applesauce style.

“Look here, ginger shit, I ain’t a misogynist.  My mom woulda beaten outta me by the time I was eight if I had been.”

“Your mom never raised a hand to you,” Feuilly snorted.

“Yeah, she woulda if I’d been rude to women,” Bahorel answered, shoving Feuilly hard and earning another back at him.

Combeferre rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Courfeyrac’s skin, drawing his lips up and down his neck slowly and languidly. Feuilly and Bahorel had moved on to talking about a girl who did everything and put the boys to shame while doing it. Bahorel wanted her on the football team and he’d fight the other coaches, the school board, and the girl’s parents to get it.

Courfeyrac brought his hand up to tug through Combeferre’s hair gently and turned to kiss his cheek sweetly. “Aren’t you being affectionate and tactile today?” he hummed with a grin.

Combeferre put on a mock offended face. “I’m always affectionate and tactile with you,” he argued, giving Courfeyrac a peck on the lips.

“Only when I goad you into it,” Courfeyrac responded with a grin.

“I think giving me a lap dance might count as goading,” Combeferre laughed, drawing Bahorel’s attention from Feuilly and earning him a bean in the head by a crumbled up paper ball from the redhead.

“You were given a lap dance by a kindergarten teacher in his chair in his room on a school day?” Bahorel asked in literal shock. “I’ve been asking for that for years!”

“Sorry, darling, you’re not my type,” Courfeyrac laughed, laying his head against Combeferre’s shoulder and snuggling up against him. “And it wasn’t a full lap dance. That’d be hard with the arm rests here.”

“I bet it’s not the only thing hard,” Feuilly snickered. Bahorel was just about the shove him again when the door, yet again, slammed open and Enjolras stormed in with the rage cloud that always hung about him. A laughing Grantaire followed a few steps after.

Enjolras immediately moved to the treasure trunk in the back of the room and grabbed two play swords and threw one at Grantaire who caught it easily. Joly lifted his head groggily to take in the scene and his eyes widened a moment too late as Enjolras and Grantaire went at it. His warning of, “Enjolras, no, he’s a fencer,” was drowned out by plastic clacking on plastic.

“Hey, watch yourselves, those are for my kids, not your egos,” Courfeyrac warned a little louder, though it went just as unheeded.

It was a short battle, ending with Enjolras doubled over from a rather hard jab to his stomach and a much lighter smack to his face and a for-show-only hit to the back of his neck from the hilt of the sword. Grantaire threw his sword back into the trunk and grabbed Enjolras’ from where it was pointing out because of how he had his arms wrapped around his midsection. He put that one away and then collapsed on the foam mats, on his back, with one arm tucked under his head and the other thrown over his eyes. Eventually, Enjolras stumbled over to him and laid down next to the high school art teacher, curling up against his side.

“You cannot teach the Egyptian Revolution as a wholly good thing. You don’t even teacher World History. You teach European History,” Grantaire sighed.

“Do you always resolve your arguments with a sword fight?” Bahorel asked.

“The Egyptian Revolution was largely influenced by and begun because of Britain’s presence in Egypt,” Enjolras continued, ignoring Bahorel entirely.

“I don’t think it’s resolved,” Feuilly pointed out with a smirk.

“That still doesn’t make it your jurisdiction or a good thing!” Grantaire argued loudly, though the hand finding its way through Enjolras’ curls softly negated the tone.

“The kids deserve to know what happened and see both sides so they can’t make their own decisions,” Enjolras insisted.

“We work at a small, private school. The fact that Monsieur Blanc hasn’t fired us yet isn’t cause enough for you to go out and corrupt young Republicans now.”

“They’re eighteen, they deserve to know what’s happening in the world before they leave! And I’m not corrupting them. I’m saving them.”

The room was silent for a few seconds before Grantaire and Enjolras both began to laugh and curl into each other more which made everyone else laugh too because, dammit, they were cute and infectious. Like the stuffed animals Combeferre had in his classroom.

Courfeyrac reached over and threw two juice boxes at them. “Have a juice and a smile and shut the hell up,” he teased.

“Wait, I want one!” Bossuet called.

“Just give us three,” Musichetta answered. Joly leaned up and kissed her for her help to the cause.

Courfeyrac did as he was told and then grabbed another for him and Combeferre. Once again, the room was silent as they all drank their drinks and cuddled with their significant others. Courfeyrac wished it would get this quiet with his kids.

Then Bossuet started choking on his juice. As he remembered how to breathe, conversation started up again and they meandered from subject to subject, covering the flu outbreak in the fourth grade to the scandal with one of the high school science teachers (which Combeferre couldn’t say anything about as head of the department but, yes, it was all true) to finals to summer to the future.

“Hey, they just gave me an assistant,” Feuilly said with a grin. “She’s gorgeous and sweet and so good at what she does. It’ll be real nice in the bigger classes to have someone help.”

“Oh, is she the real pretty blond girl they just hired?” Bossuet asked.

“Yeah, are you sharing her with Chetta? ‘Cause I know that one’s working with Chetta for half the day,” Joly  continued.

Feuilly glanced at Musichetta who shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything about it but you know how the various admins are about telling us anything. It might be. She’s helping with my lower level art classes. She’s good at her job too. I think she’s training for special ed classes but I’m not sure,” she offered.

“No way, I think she’s the same girl,” Feuilly said with a grin. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, real pretty blond who’s training for SpecEd,” he agreed. “I’ve got her in the afternoons. She’s great.”

“Yeah, she is,” Musichetta laughed. “Real nice girl. I can’t wait. Maybe this’ll force them to hire more ladies, yeah? I can’t be the only one around.”

“Well, not in the language department,” Grantaire said. “They just hired a new Spanish and ASL and French and, now, Russian teacher. Derpy, geeky guy. He’s really quite absurd. Trips over his own feet, stutters like crazy in his native tongue, came into my classroom instead of the one they’ll be putting him in. He’s a mess. But, damn, he’s good at languages. We were going over some of my Greek books and the kid knows what he’s talking about. I can’t believe enough of our kids wanted to learn Russian to facilitate a class and new teacher.”

“There’s a new English teacher too,” Enjolras said. “I think they’ve got a Creative Writing course finally. Real progressive person. Kinda out there, pretty sure they’re a stoner but, hey,” he said with a shrug. “At least Grantaire’ll have a friend now,” he offered. He shrieked in laughter as Grantaire rolled over on him and boxed him in between his arms and legs.

Combeferre pulled Courfeyrac back into his chest and tilted his head down to take a drink from the juice box. Bahorel and Feuilly were comparing something about their arms across the way. Bossuet and Musichetta and Joly were cuddled together, reading one of the books from their shelf next to them and sharing their drinks. On second thought, Courfeyrac wouldn’t have it any other way. He was more than pleased to be exactly where he was with the noise and the love and friends and the family. This was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty then. That was different from what I normally write. The toys in Combeferre's room can be found [here](http://www.giantmicrobes.com/us/main/best-sellers) I love them  
> The time schedule Courf mentions at the beginning based on how my school handles not having enough buses so lower levels get out an hour before the upper levels.  
> I love comments, just an FYI


End file.
